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Hope.
I’d had something similar back with three kids asleep in the back of a shitty old car as I pressed my foot to the accelerator, and got us the hell out of Dodge.
But, of course, that had come with its own problems.
Lack of money. Lack of a home. Lack of a job.
It wasn’t long before that feeling of hope got crushed under the overwhelming reality I was faced with.
Getting a job—of sorts—, then the apartment, as shitty as it was, had been steps in the right direction, but I’d been purely in survival mode since the moment we moved into Navesink Bank.
It seemed like, finally, we were maybe heading in the right direction. Especially with rent being so low and utilities included. Though, yeah, I was totally making up for that somehow to Seth. I just didn’t know how yet.
But this would allow me to start to save.
For basic essentials, then fixing the car. And, eventually, for us to get a bigger, more permanent place.
There was a light at the end of a very long, very dark tunnel.
And I wasn’t going to darken it by thinking of all the ways this could go wrong, damnit.
I was just going to let myself enjoy this. At least for one night.
The cottage already looked more like home than the apartment ever had. Part of that may have been because the kids and I had stopped at the cheapest store around to stock up on a few supplies since I would have a little extra cash lying around thanks to the cheaper rent.
There were placemats on the table. Which I’d deemed a necessity because it was a nice table, and kids could be messy not only when they ate but also when they did little craft projects. I bought a pack of magnets for the fridge for kids’ art. Isaac’s new shoes were by the door. Hazel had a new toy pony next to the coffee maker. I had a new blanket on the couch.
It felt like home already.
On a sigh, I reached for my tablet, opening up the gig website I was currently using to make most of my money with, since I was doing everything in my power to stay off of anyone’s database, trying not to leave any sort of trail that could lead back to me.
Once upon a time, in what felt like a completely different life, I’d gone to college for the one thing that I truly loved, the thing that had gotten me through a somewhat lonely childhood.
Writing.
Before life had… veered me in a new direction.
And the words suddenly failed me.
They were still out of reach.
But I could summon ones for other people, for random jobs. Blog posts, email copy, articles, or even research and summarize subjects for things like podcasts.
It wasn’t amazing money. But it was currently… getting us by. On top of the occasional dog walking job or babysitting or, well, literally anything I could find that would pay me under the table.
I kept reminding myself that Clara was getting bigger, that she wouldn’t need constant attention soon, that she would get more interested in toys, which would allow me more time to get jobs done.
I knew that I would have a lot of extra time if I put the older two in school once the year started in September. But I hadn’t decided on that yet. School meant paperwork, meant they were “on the books” somewhere.
I mean, no, I didn’t think most schools had systems that were easily hacked, but I also didn’t know if I wanted to take that risk. It was part of the reason I’d moved us all the way to New Jersey. The liberal homeschooling laws.
Shaking my head, I knocked those thoughts loose, focusing instead on my inbox on my gig website.
There were three new potential clients looking for writers for their job. One was lowballing me on my already very competitive rate. Another wanted something a little too medically technical for me to feel good about writing it. But the third wanted three fairly straightforward blog posts for their lifestyle website.
It was maybe three hours of work, plus or minus some extra editing time, and I would bring home a solid one-twenty.
Not insane money, but good.
And if she liked what I produced, she might come back for more posts since a little research told me she had a super successful blog that was updated at least three times a week.
This was what I had been working toward. Why I had been taking so many jobs. I wanted the reviews, so new clients would know I was a solid choice.
That was why I’d been quick to leave a lengthy and glowing review for the shooting range after I’d visited. I knew personally just how important reviews could be to your business.
Deciding it was better to burn the midnight oil and get at least one of the articles done before sleep, I got to work doing quick research, then typing things up on my tablet, promising myself that I would look into, if not a laptop, then at least one of those Bluetooth keyboards to make typing the work up easier.
